


milk coffee

by glory_of_bygone_days



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crush at First Sight, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, Unhappy Ending, a lot of extremely gay monologue, i project on lachesis as per usual, some other minor characters and relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glory_of_bygone_days/pseuds/glory_of_bygone_days
Summary: Sheis like a summer storm, appearing without notice and shaking everything in her path. Her appearance, disheveled with damp clothes and hair sticking to her face in strange angles, only reinforced that impression.A summer storm in the middle of November.
Relationships: Ira | Ayra/Raquesis | Lachesis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	milk coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tangerinabina_de_archanea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/gifts).



> my friend bina said i couldnt possibly write a sad coffee shop au so i took it as a challenge and... wrote this. it was supposed to be a short drabble. its my longest published fic so far. ill blame the endless delay on that
> 
> a big thanks to kiro for beta-ing!!

The day starts out _dull_. The alarm clock is the same as always, the toast tastes as plain as always, classes drag on as always. The dark gray of the sky is the same as it would be on any other day in November, so is the wind that seems to try its best to steer Lachesis from her path and the slightly warm air that greets her as she enters the small coffee shop she works in.

At least ever since she replaced her glasses with contact lenses, she was no longer welcomed by a world made of fog.

There’s some merit to routine, no doubt about that. Such as Lachesis being able to take orders with a practiced smile and skillfully prepare even the more difficult creations they offered all while internally contemplating her situation instead of properly paying attention.

Still, it’s _dull_.

She already resigned herself to another day _as always_ when the door opens with a chime.

That, in itself, is obviously nothing out of the ordinary. The coffee shop may be on the smaller side, but there's a decent number of regulars and it _has_ become one of moderate popularity through the years. As such, there was a steady flow of customers arriving and leaving almost all the time. 

Some stayed to sit down at a table, some immediately rushed out again. Sometimes there were large groups, sometimes there was nobody at all for a while. Some ordered the same every single time, some were always looking for something new to try.

It was, by all means, nothing extraordinary.

The woman who entered at exactly 18:00 _was_.

There was something about her that immediately commanded attention. Her presence seems to shift the entire atmosphere in the shop and Lachesis can’t tell why but it suddenly feels _warm_.

_She_ is like a summer storm, appearing without notice and shaking everything in her path. Her appearance, disheveled with damp clothes and hair sticking to her face in strange angles, only reinforced that impression.

_A summer storm in the middle of November._

She confidently strides over to the counter, never faltering despite all the eyes on her and whispered words tumbling out of the other patrons’ mouths incessantly. Lachesis can’t help but admire the way her dark hair slightly shifts as she moves, it reflects the light of the lamps so brilliantly and-

Suddenly, she’s very _very_ close and now it’s certainly not the temperature of the room that heats up Lachesis’ cheeks.

Her dark eyelashes fluttering rhythmically could easily command her complete attention if she didn’t start saying something that didn’t quite register and her lips are slightly chapped but look so soft and Lachesis wants to touch them and she smells so nice kind of like-

_By the Gods, what is wrong with her?!_

She quickly clears her throat and shoots the other a smile, although it comes out more shaky than intended.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that please?”

The other raises an eyebrow but thankfully doesn’t voice any thoughts she may have.

“One coffee to go. Black. No sugar.”

_Even her voice is beautiful._ It’s not exactly gentle, but it’s deep and rich and warm and Lachesis could listen to it all day without complaint and-

She quickly turns around to prepare the coffee before her thoughts start to wander again. There’s already a queue forming, no doubt thanks to her spacing out.

Still, it doesn’t stop whatever had seemingly set her entire body aflame, and for the first time this month Lachesis burns her fingers because she isn’t careful about handling the hot beverage.

It’s almost a relief when the woman leaves the shop with a nod and a certainly undeserved tip and Lachesis is finally capable of rational thought again.

And yet, _she_ seems to take that _spark_ with her, the warmth and the turbulence and Lachesis feels almost _hollow_.

The rest of the day passes like a blur, her thoughts always wandering back to the encounter that has kindled such strong feelings within her. More than once she finds herself staring longingly at the entrance instead of paying attention to the customers and it earns her a stern reprimanding of the owner for the first time since she started working.

That night, Lachesis can’t sleep as she giddily wonders if the woman would come by again soon.

The woman _does_ return soon. In fact, it’s only a day later when Lachesis sees her again, at exactly 18:00, considerably drier but no less beautiful. This time, she can thankfully stay much more composed, and her _absolutely uncalled for_ monologue about the other woman only occupies the preparation time for the coffee (to go, black, no sugar). She pays the same amount as before and leaves without another word.

Lachesis fully expects things to continue that way, for her to become part of the routine just like everyone and everything else does. One day, though, the woman hesitates for a moment before taking her coffee (to go, black, no sugar).

“Ayra.”

Lachesis is caught so off-guard that she pulls what’s probably the least intelligent-looking expression she’s capable of and stares at the other for what feels like minutes before she speaks up again.

“My name. I’m Ayra.”

“Lachesis.”, Lachesis replies on reflex. It feels like her brain just shut off and her mouth is so dry she’s surprised she can speak at all.

The wo- _Ayra_ just nods with a ghost of a smile on her face and Lachesis prays to any of the gods who might listen that her face isn’t as red as it _feels_.

The way home she feels like she’s walking on clouds instead of solid ground.

After that, they start to talk for a little; Ayra asks about her shifts and she asks about her day in return. It continues like that for a while, until Ayra begins to show up at different times throughout her shift, but eventually settles on times when the shop is least busy.

In a way, it became a constant in itself; the two of them would settle in a routine for a few days, only for Ayra to break it one day and start the cycle again.

The biggest change so far occurred on Tuesday, December 3rd, 16:15.

Lachesis is already on her way to prepare the usual coffee (to go, black, no sugar) because that never never changed when she’s stopped by a raised hand and a “For here”. 

She must’ve looked especially silly spilling coffee beans all over the counter because when her consciousness returns, the only thing she sees and hears is Ayra’s laughter. 

It’s the first time she’s heard her _laugh_ , and it’s _gorgeous_. It’s free and unrestrained and just like _her_ in that way. Lachesis grumbles a bit but her chest is light. She finds herself thinking that as long as she can hear this laughter again it wouldn’t matter if it was directed at her.

They talk for a bit longer, that day. She learns that Ayra originally comes from a neighbouring country where the rest of her family (her father, half-brother and nephew) still live. Just like Lachesis herself she came to town for studying, although _her_ goal was to become a P.E. teacher. 

It seems surprising, almost, but Ayra says it’s because she’s always trained her nephew that she found out how enjoyable it is and that it’s something she would like to do in the future, too. 

“Of course.” is what Lachesis’ mouth replies and she herself is surprised because she isn’t sure where that thought came from. Ayra just smiles and asks her about her own goals in life and Lachesis just barely satisfies her with a half-answer before they move on to talk about many more things. 

The coffee shop eventually starts to become busier again and Ayra moves to leave after paying. Before she steps out of the door, she turns around again one last time and the smile they share is enough for Lachesis to feel a strange kind of _whole_ for the rest of her shift.

When she comes home, she squeals into her pillow like one of those horrible, horrible teenage girls from those horrible, horrible movies she used to love.

Lachesis had always been fond of milk the most, to the point where her brother once asked her if she was a cat (she bit his finger in return for that).

These days, there’s a little more coffee than milk in her cup, and she says it’s because the caffeine helps her keep up with class. It convinces the people around her without doubt, and it almost convinces her, too.

Their chats (sometimes short, sometimes long, depending on the number of customers stopping by) become the part of her day Lachesis looks forward to the most. Neither of them talks _a lot_ , not really, but somehow they still _tell_ each other so much. 

It’s the first time Lachesis has ever felt this kind of _connection_ with someone. It’s strange and it’s new and it almost feels like someone is pulling away the very ground she’s standing on. She’s not sure if she hates it or loves it but it’s there. It’s _there_ and it’s _strong_ and it makes her feel _so many things at once_ and sometimes she wonders if Ayra feels the same way, at least a little bit.

The answer comes when one day she leaves the coffee shop with cheeks tinted red and a note lighter. When Lachesis picks it up to return it to her she finds a number scribbled on the paper and forgets to breathe for a second.

A week later, the note still sits on the bedside table, untouched. She’s _afraid_ of it for a reason she can’t quite comprehend and it makes her feel so pathetic it’s laughable. Every night, she picks up her phone, writes a message, deletes it and puts her phone down again.

Ayra doesn’t comment on it, but things… are different. Tense, and awkward. Lachesis knows that she could change it if she could just speak up. If she could just _speak up_ and it’s hilarious because if there’s one thing people would attest to her not having trouble with it’s speaking up.

But she’s _scared_ and she doesn’t know why and she wants to ask Ayra for reassurance but she doesn’t know _for what_ and so she keeps quiet and pretends she can’t see the way Ayra looks at her.

Slowly, Ayra comes by less and less until one day she matter-of-factly states that she would move back to her home country to look after her nephew. No details, only a strange atmosphere around them and Lachesis wants to say _something_ , but there’s too much to say, too much to ask, so she doesn’t say _anything at all_ and just nods with a numb feeling in her chest.

When Ayra leaves that day, she turns around for a second with an emotion in her eyes that Lachesis can’t quite place. She looks like she wants to speak for a second, before turning around with a shake of her head and a mumbled “sorry”.

Then she’s out of the door and Lachesis wants to call after her, run after her, finally tell her everything that had been on her mind although it didn’t even make sense to herself-

But she can’t. Can’t even will her body to raise her hand so she just stands there, something inside her crushed, thinking of too many things and none at all.

Ayra doesn’t visit anymore and the world moves on.

Lachesis graduates and although just about every person in her life teams up with her logical side to tell her not to, she takes over the coffee shop when the previous owner retires to take care of her sick mother. It’s mostly out of enjoyment and because she’s grown attached to the small shop, really. Still, there was a very, very small and very, very stupid part that hoped _she_ would come by again.

She sees _her_ again many years later during a Christmas party organized by her brother’s boyfriend Sigurd. Not in person, no, but in a photo dated to six months earlier sitting among the many photos of his friends. She smiles that little soft smile of hers in a suit next to a woman with curly lavender hair in a wedding dress.

She doesn’t even ask, but Sigurd starts talking anyway, about how his ex-girlfriend got married despite her agent’s protest (she’s a singer, apparently) and her wife used to live here in this city and even spoke highly of the coffee shop Lachesis works in, what a coincidence, isn’t it? And…

Lachesis shoots him what she hopes is a polite smile and tunes out the rest of the conversation. She doesn’t talk much that evening and excuses herself as early as she can.

She starts drinking tea from then on.


End file.
